Holding hands with darkness

An intriguing presence beckons her
in the mid of the eve
come follow thee
it calls to her
through the blackness
and outstretches its hand to her
though she is scared and unaware
of what hides in the shadows
she takes hold firmly and begins
to perambulate willingly
each step reaches her closer to
the eye of the storm
the root of all pain
crimson tears flow from her
though are invisible through the fog
she blends in with the night
so dark her view affront her
is nonexistent
it leads her down the path of destruction
she's guided too far away
too deep down
and alone is she in utter chaos
the one she yearns for
is with her no longer
all that is left
is her attachment to the shadows
and with her hand interlocked with its
she follows, now unable to control her destination,
into the eye of the storm